Flower with A Mithril Stem
by CrescentMoonChild
Summary: Bilba Baggins has a tendency to rush into troublesome situations. After rescuing a group of young dwarflings from slave traders, Bilba is tasked with protecting these scared younglings until their families arrive to reclaim them. But, what will happen when Bilba becomes aware of the dwarves hardships? How will their history change as a result of Bilba's caring heart?
1. In a Little, Peaceful Corner

**DISCLAIMER: I** **WISH** **THAT I WAS THE CREATOR OF THIS WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL, INSPIRATIONAL MASTERPIECE! ... BUT I AM NOT.**

 **I own nothing from The Hobbit books or its characters.**

 **AND THAT IS SAD FOR ME.** **BUT, AT LEAST I CAN SATISFY MY NEED TO SHIP IT'S CHARACTERS AND PLACE THEM IN SITUATIONS NOT ORIGINALLY IN THE BOOK/MOVIE SERIES. HERE'S TO (SEMI-) FULFILLED DREAMS!**

 **HOPE YOU ENJOY!**

Chapter 1: In A Little, Peaceful Corner of Middle Earth...

The day was nearly done and the majority of the more proper, homely hobbits were either already in their cosy smials or on their way to them.

Older gentle-hobbits could be found sitting on their front lawn benches, huffing Old Toby from their long pipes, only to be drawn inside by tantalizing wisps of dinner floating out from a window. Along the road, young couples could be seen arm in arm, content in devoting their attentions to each other. And, of course, one could not forget the fauntlings. Well, not unless one wanted their gardens picked clean of the more delectable mushrooms, carrots, or potatoes.

However, since it was nearly dusk and most fauntlings were to be found indoors eating a delicious meal, there was little to fear for now. Even as the sun was setting for the day, the hobbits of the Shire had little to fear.

All was right in their little corner of the world and that was the way they liked it; with a little bit of everyday small gossip to add a bit of spice to make their days complete. After all, while hobbits loved the Shire and the security of their peaceful days, they would also say a bit of gossip never hurt to pass along when relatives came knocking for afternoon tea.

Peaceful, Ordinary, and Predictable. Those were the defining features of the Shire that every hobbit knew by heart and coveted. And this evening was no different.

Well...at least, until the residents living off the dirt road of Bagshot Row heard the tell-tale rantings of a certain hobbit lass.

Heads with small pointed ears would stick out their windows and shake their heads slowly at the audible grumblings of one Bilba Baggins, the heiress of Bag End, and the loud laughter of the young Frodo Baggins, as they both walked by. Inside their smials, neighbors saw the duo and shook their heads at the commotion they were kicking up at such a late time of day.

In their eyes, any respectable hobbit would already be inside preparing to sit down to dinner or, at the very least, already be plating the meals onto finely polished plates. However, that didn't mean that they couldn't listen in to see what had the young Baggins in such a tiff. Then, with a small smirk, their heads would pull back in, as well as the windowpanes to shield any gossip that would undeniably follow.

It was well established to every-hobbit that the two Baggins who lived in Bag End were anything but respectable and proper, which fed the rumor mill a bit. Outlandish stories of their trips to Bree, the human village outside the Shire, were told under the Party Tree every year. The gifts that they would distribute to guests on either's name-day were just as exciting, which prompted many in Hobbiton to stay their inner judgements on them. Unless they were a Sackville-Baggins, of course.

But, as it turned out, the wide-birth the other hobbits gave them suited both Bilba and Frodo just as well. They enjoyed their privacies, when they weren't accosted by uninvited relatives, at least.

Truly, Hobbiton had not before seen a more lively pair of hobbits. Brought together under less than ideal, and all-together tragic circumstances, the heiress of Bag End's decision to adopt the young fauntling, Frodo, had made life sweeter for both and more than entertaining for their neighbors.

However, at the moment, it seemed that the Bag End heiress had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, as she stomped down Bagshot Row, her upheld skirts chiming with what sounded like silverware.

"Honestly, that nosey, busy-body doesn't care when she is unwelcome. First, she had the nerve to invite herself for elevenses with the excuse that she was 'in the area', which I am sure was the same excuse she used not two weeks ago! And then, after scarfing five scones down her gullet along with my best tea, she makes off with my mother's engraved silverware stuffed in her dress pockets!", Bilba steamed ahead, bringing out a small laugh from the lad that trailed her.

Turning towards the young faunt, Bilba shook her head, "I swear that -pardon my language, Frodo, but - that _she-wolf_ better learn from this or else she will have no-one to blame but herself when the Sackville-Baggins name is drug through the manure!"

Frodo chuckled a bit at his aunt's heated expression. He found it hilarious, the way Bilba had, not one hour ago, marched the both of them through Lobelia's front door and upturned her entire kitchen to find Bilba's mother's silverware. They were finally found hidden underneath a loose kitchen floorboard. Lobelia, of course, made a scene and tried to make excuses for why she had them; stating that Belladonna had gifted them to her years ago, but that only served to infuriate his aunt.

In the end, Bilba had only needed to make a show of notching her bow at Lobelia's favorite porcelain dishes to have those lies retracted. They cleaned out the lot and Bilba made quite a show of sticking out her tongue, before they both left that awful woman's smial.

As they walked, Frodo continued to smile up at Bilba. He watched as her long, untamable golden curled tresses, which were gathered and reenforced with pins into a tight braided bun, had escaped their confinements to frame her face and bounced with each quick step she took. The _ching-ing_ of silverware clanking together accompanied each step, and undoubtably came from the make-shift basket the lass made from holding up her dress-skirt.

A state that would've made any other hobbit-lass blush and unattached gentle-hobbits stare at the slender legs on display. Not that Bilba cared one way or the other. To her, it was simply the only way to get her mother's silverware home as quickly as possible.

 _The look on Lobelia's face though, when her own husband's eyes stared a mite too long. Priceless, ha!,_ Frodo thought, as his hand patted his trouser pockets, which were filled with a few forks and spoons as well.

The short laugh that escaped his lips drew the attention of his aunt. Looking down, Bilba smiled at Frodo as he kept pace with her, his short, but thick, brown-tinted curls bouncing against his head as he skipped alongside the flowerbeds scattered at the road's edges.

Every now and then, the lad would stoop down and pick up the strangest things that other hobbits either lost or simply tossed aside when broken. So far, Frodo's pockets were filled with a bunch of purple flowers, a oddly colored pebble, a misshapen twig, and a leather handle that looked to have once belonged to a hand-shovel. It was a hobby that Bilba supported and, every now and then, the occasional blueberry pie or lemon cake would be brought home for them to share.

Nothing was off limits to the boy, which got him into some trouble with the neighbors who came to her with their claims of 'stolen' trinkets. Of course, Bilba would both deny such accusations, while simultaneously encouraging her nephew in his mischief. A few everyday items going missing wouldn't cause much harm, she told herself. And if she were honest with herself, someone needed to keep the good folk of the Shire on their toes, lest things get too caught in routine around here.

And besides, at the end of the day, it made her nephew smile brighter when he revealed his daily treasures to her. Though it may sound silly to others, to her those moments made her days a bit brighter as well.

A smile broke out across his face as he laughed with joy, "Yeah, Lotho is pretty mean, too. He hit Rosemary Bracegirdle with his largest conker yesterday and made her cry! Didn't even say he was sorry afterwards!"

"Oh, did he?" Bilba smirked, knowing how the story would unfold. After all, word traveled fast in the Shire, especially when a Sackville was involved. It was also a conversation Lobelia lectured at length about during her visit, which took all of Bilba's inner effort to not roll her eyes at the woman's overblown descriptions of her 'terror-stricken' faunt.

"But, don't worry, I made sure he didn't get away with it." The lad stated with pride as he puffed up his chest. "I chased him away with the wooden sword you gave me! I would have chased him into the market circle, but he got to his mum first, so I went back to make sure Rose was alright. She had a bruise on her forehead."

"That's a good lad! It's always good to keep those Sackville-Baggins on their toes. Can't have them thinking we Baggins of Bag End are a bunch of fragile daisies, now can we?" Bilba smiled down at him, juggling her skirts to hold them with one hand so she could tussle his golden locks.

His flushed face and beaming smile sent an arrow of love straight to her heart. It has only been six months since the little tyke came to live with her in Bag End, and already he was smiling again.

"Nope! Can't have that!", Frodo laughed as he bolted down the road towards Bag End. _Towards home._

A whirlwind of conflicting emotions came with that thought for Bilba, causing her to slow her pace to sort them through.

Yes, it was home. It was the one where she was raised with love and understanding by her parents, Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Baggins nee. Took.

As a child, to her the Shire had always been a peaceful place.

It's lands untouched by the destructive hands of men, whose search for hidden riches and game hunting had turned their own lands beyond the Old Forest into hollow husks of what they had once been. Although some of the other species of Arda, such as the dwarves who resided in the Blue Mountains, have been known to have passed through it's green pastures and slow rolling hills. These few individuals never stayed longer than a few days, however, much to the disappointment of the ever curious Frodo.

And, why should they stay? The lush, rolling fields of the Shire didn't have anything to offer those who searched for precious rocks that glowed with inner fires or sparkled like starlight from the heavens. Or, at least, that's what Bilba had assumed.

Once at the top of the road that fed into the grounds of Bag End, Bilba took the time to turn around and let her eyes roam over the Shire.

In her youth, she held the belief that one could not ask for richer lands than those that made up the Shire. Ever since the first settlement of hobbits in the Shire, it had yet to fail to provide for them during the growing seasons. The hobbits had enough food to sustain their excessive, at least according to the other races, number of meals and had more than enough left over for the occasional party.

Everything in the Shire seemed like a paradise for a race as defenseless as the hobbits.

However, her entire perception changed with the Fell Winter, when the snow arrived too early and, if that wasn't enough, continued to fall well into the months designated for spring planting. It was the first nightmarish experience to grace the Shire lands since the Goblin invasions, only this time the enemy was one that even Bullroarer Took wouldn't have been able to cut down. No, this was winter. A time where the soil freezes and nothing grows.

In little time, every hobbit's winter stores began to run low, forcing them to brave unforgiving blizzards, harsh winds, and plummeting temperatures for the chance of finding even a bit of game in the forest. Some had simply found their end in the snow, the low temperatures lulling them into a sleep of which they would never awaken. Others met their end when the Brandywine River became frozen over allowing hunger-driven wolves to cross over.

At first, the wolves only attacked livestock and raided chicken coops. But, soon enough their attentions were turned onto the hobbits that cared for them. If Bilba remembered correctly, their first victim was Tomas Brandybuck, a young lad of Bilba's age. It only grew worse from there. For a while, the hobbit's snow-covered fields were, for the first time in an age, stained with hobbit blood.

It was during this time that the Thain sent word to all corners of the Shire for families to come together, and if a hobbit was without family in their immediate area, then neighbors would be duty-bound to provide assistance. It was decreed a state of emergency, and all hobbits were urged to share what they could, be it shelter, blankets, or food.

Of course, once Belladonna caught the news from the Bounders, there wasn't any-hobbit who could have stopped her from packing a small travel pack for the one day trip it would take to collect her favorite cousin, Primula, and her family who lived on the border of the Brandywine River.

Oh, Bungo tried to reason with her at first, pleading for her to leave matters to the Bounders, who could have gone to collect their cousins instead. Needless to say, Bungo's words fell on deaf ears and the morning after found Belladonna on the road with Bungo accompanying her. Bilba was left behind to mind the house with her parent's assurance that they would be back for lunch the following day.

That was the first night of her entire life that she didn't get a wink of sleep.

It was in the early afternoon when Belladonna and Bungo Baggins had returned to Bag End with their beloved cousins Primula and Drogo Baggins, as well as their young son of three years, Frodo Baggins.

The few jars of preservatives and packages of dried fish that came with them had lifted Bilba's spirits, if only a little. The small blessing of extra food made her believe that it would be enough to sustain them, and that, perhaps, this winter will be over before they even ran out. At thirty years of age, Bilba was still considered a tween, but that thought sounded naive even to her.

Both women were strong of spirit when their family's pantries had but a few loaves of bread left on their shelves. They had hearts braver than any other when they decided to sneak out into the forest each night in search of food, despite their husbands' collective concerns. Since they were the only ones with any experience with a bow and arrow, and Bilba was only just training, Belladonna and Primula wouldn't hear of anyone else to tag along with them on their hunts. They left many times during that winder, each time promising to come back home, kissing everyone twice and with a smile on their faces.

Until one night, her mother and her aunt didn't come back.

That night, both Belladonna Baggins ne Took and Primula Baggins ne Brandybuck met their fates at the jaws of wolves and were called back to Yavanna's garden.

The morning after was painful for everyone, but even more so for Bungo and Drogo, whose hearts were so filled with a longing to be with their other-halves that they couldn't make it to the coming spring. First it was Bungo who felt the calling. In the dead of night when everyone slept, he simply left the smial. The next day, his body was found lying frozen underneath the snow. When Bilba saw her father's cold body the first thought she had was: _He didn't even stop to put on his coat_.

Bilba's grieving for her father was cut short, however, when Frodo came to her crying that he couldn't find his father anywhere in Bag End barely a week later. The snowstorm outside that day was too fierce to go looking until four days later. By the time he was found, Drogo Baggins's body was barely recognizable from how frozen he had become.

Frodo had been inconsolable afterwards. He kept to his room most of the time, even when the snow had begun to melt and the first sprouts of spring began to appear. Bilba was much the same. He was quiet around the smial, keeping to himself and tightly clutching the small lamb-shaped pillow that Primula had stitched for him to snuggle with at night.

It was one morning when nearly all the snow had disappeared that Bilba caught a sight of herself in a hallway mirror. Her hair was a birds nest, red stained the edges of her eyes, her skin took on a sick, pale tint, and her clothes were disheveled to the point someone might have mistaken her for one of the homeless women of Bree. She looked horrendous, but it wasn't her own reflection that startled her.

No, it was her small nephew who had appeared behind her, looking nearly the same as she did.

It was at that moment that Bilba turned around so quickly that she tripped over her own feet, before launching herself at Frodo. Her arms encased his tiny body as she sobbed out apologies and promises all in the same breath. By the end of it, both had a good cry into the other's shoulders and their healing process had begun.

The days that followed were tough, Bilba remembered, but they were days they spent with each other. She made flower memorials for both her parents and Frodo's above the fireplace, where they would remember their lives and the love they had for them. From then on, the task was set before Bilba to provide for herself and Frodo for the years to come.

It helped that Bungo had already named her sole heiress of Bag End the previous year, which gave her a bit of backing. However, with that came all of her father's responsibilities as head of the Baggins family, along with all of his business dealings with hobbits and men alike, as well as her mother's tasks up-keeping the large smial that was Bag End.

It had helped that Bungo had saw fit to begin teaching her the intricacies of his business as a landowner, taking her that last spring to meet the farmers and their families tending to his lands. But, he had not foreseen both he and his wife being called back to the Green Lady's Gardens in the coming winter, and thus, Bilbo was left to stumble a bit to quickly familiarize herself with everything else.

Coupled together with grieving for her parent's deaths, it had taken some time for Bilba to get herself to rights and take control of Bag End's finances and estate. At the tender age of thirty-one, not even being a hobbit "of-age", many hobbits had thought to petition against Bilba's rights to Bag End, stating that she was too young to handle such responsibilities.

She put that to rest straight away, however, stating that she was more than fit to care for herself and Bag End.

Oh, she was met with resistance by more than one greedy hobbit family. The Sackville-Baggins' were the most vocal about their "concerns" for her, stating that looking after such a large estate wouldn't be healthy and that they would "graciously" relieve her of her father's burden.

That pulled her from her grieving like an ice-cold bucket of water being thrown over her. The argument ended with her pointing her bow and arrow, loosing a few to scatter the few more resisting hobbits, as she drove off any solicitors around her home. It was after that incident that Bilba gained the title 'Mad Baggins', and wore it proudly from that day forward.

Of course, in order to save her reputation as well as pacify the masses, the Thain sent her a letter of certification that dubbed her an honorary Bounder and left it at that. Her community soon began to overlook her strange tendencies after that, stating that it was simply her Took blood that bade her to do such oddities. All in all, it was the best Bilba could have expected out of the situation.

Five years of healing had managed to coat over the pain and the loss both hobbits had received from the Fell Winter. Five years had seen Bilba adopting her nephew Frodo before she even reached her majority, something that other hobbits had frowned upon. However, Bilbo dug her heels in when questioned about it, even going so far as to pay a visit to her grandfather, Gerontious Took, who had currently held the position of Thain.

"Auntie Bilba, there's another one today!"

The slightly angry voice of her nephew drew the young hobbit lass from her thoughts, realizing that she had been standing at the top of the road for some time. Looking towards Bag End now, Bilbo could see what had gotten Frodo so upset. Sighing slightly, she adjusted her hold on her dress skirt, making sure that no silverware fell, as she made her way down the road and through the Bag End gate.

In her path, Frodo stood with contempt in his eyes as he glared at the two bouquets of flowers that sat innocently on the stoop.

"Why do they keep sending these? You showed everyone at the Spring Planting Festival that you aren't interested, so why don't they back off already!", Frodo muttered with what looked like a pouting face. If he wasn't so riled up Bilba would almost find the expression cute.

"Well, these ones seem to be particularly stubborn, is all. I'll scatter the petals properly to show that I haven't changed my mind. That should deter these pesky suitors for a while." Bilbo said as she stepped over the flowers to open the door.

To bring them into her smial would suggest that she was considering the proposition, which was the last thing she wished for. So, she left the bouquet on the stoop and entered her home, pretending she didn't see how her nephew blew a quiet raspberry at the offending bundle.

 _"For now, it is more than enough"_ , Bilba mused as she closed the door, before shrugging her quiver and bow off her shoulder to lean against the entry's coat hanger.

Once that was done, Bilba made her way to the kitchen to deposit her rescued silverware into the washbasin. The collection of forks, knives, and spoons that clattered into the tub sent water droplets splattering into the air causing a section of her skirt to get wet.

 _"Oh well, tomorrow is laundry day anyway.",_ Bilba thought to herself as she dropped her skirt to fully flare around her legs. Behind her, she could make out the scuffling of Frodo's feet as he bolted through the hallway towards the inner rooms. If she were to guess, her young charge was off to add his newly acquired treasures to his collection. But, before that...

"Frodo! Make sure that you gather all of the dirty laundry in your room to clean tomorrow. And be sure to check underneath your bed as well, I know you forgot to last week!" A small voice from inside shouted a confirmation in reply.

And, with that settled, Bilba went to work cleaning the dust off of a fork, allowing her hands to work out a rhythm. Clean the fork, dry, set aside. Clean the knives, sharpen, dry, set aside. Clean the spoons, dry, set aside. Soon, the tedious work was done and all of her silverware gleamed before they were neatly tucked away into a kitchen drawer.

It seemed her timing was perfect, since not a moment later Frodo appeared dragging behind him a basket that contained a mountain of dirty laundry. It looked like he had taken the liberty to add her own clothes to the pile as well, making its weight far too heavy for a fauntling to carry. But still, knowing Frodo, he would always try to push himself.

"Here's all of the clothes, Auntie Bilba. I looked under my bed like you said, too."

Looking at the poor lad trying to drag the basket to the front door, Bilba decided to help, "Best let me take over. The basket is too heavy for you now."

"No!" Frodo said with determination, giving the basket a powerful tug. "I can do thi- WAHHH!"

And with that, the entire mountain of smelly pants, shirts, and underthings had engulfed the young fauntling in an avalanche of stench. Bilba couldn't help but laugh as Frodo's head popped out of the mess.

"Well, may this be a lesson to you to always know when a job requires the assistance of others." Frodo grumbled as he picked himself up out of the collapsed mountain of laundry, but conceded to Bilbo's point.

Bilba shook her head at the lad, "At any rate, the day isn't over yet, so we might as well get this out to the wash bin to soak overnight. The nights have been warm enough that the water won't freeze, and then you can go explore nearby while I get supper started."

That perked the young hobbit up, as he quickly helped scoop up the scattered shirts, shorts, dresses, and underthings back into the basket. This time, Bilba was the one to carry the basket up and out, while Frodo at once bolted out of the smial like fire was nipping at his foot-hairs.

Bilba placed the basket down with a 'thud' next to the water basin, before tipping it over to let the clothes fall into the water. As she straightened, she could see Frodo's shadowy silhouette against the fading light.

"Don't go far! Supper will be ready in twenty minutes, and I better see you at the table or I'll come find you again!", Bilba yelled across the field.

Frodo waved back, having heard her, "Don't worry, I won't! I'm going to search for elves really quick and be right back! Maybe I'll meet some this time!"

"Looking for elves, huh?," She murmured to herself, as she watched her nephew disappear into the thicket surrounding the forest, Bilba smiled and her eyes took on a glint. "Now that does bring back fond memories." She murmured, thinking of past times when her mother would send her off much the same way as she did with Frodo.

 _Oh, mother... I wish you and father were still here with me._

Her thoughts transported her back to a time when she, as a young fauntling so similar to Frodo, had traversed the entire Shire in search of something... _other._ Some kind of _other-ness_ that the Shire couldn't provide for her curious mind and wandering feet. The need to search for anything out of the ordinary had fueled her imagination throughout her fauntling years and, if she were honest with herself, had never fully been quieted.

While it is true that the Fell Winter had forced her to become more grounded than she had been, her fantasies of wandering to lands outside the borders of the Shire never left her. They buzzed around in her head like it contained a hive of angry bumble bees. Needing an outlet for her imaginings, Bilba settled for writing whole books of fables for her enjoyment, which ironically later become a lucrative source of income for her.

In addition to her hobby as an author of adventure fables, she was managing her father's business position as landlord to tenants all across the Shire, supervising her croplands for their upcoming rotations, and keeping up her prize-winning tomatoes for the sixth year in a row. All in all, Bilba's days were filled to the brim with activity, notwithstanding her nosey in-laws coming over for brunch or tea and the daily declarations of love by suitors whose only interest in her was focused on either the Baggins name or Bag End itself.

Not that she cared for any of them or what they said about her. She cared not one wit for their comments about being a prude spinster at her young age.

At the moment, what she had it was enough.

Oh, she had no doubt that later on, once Frodo had grown into his majority, she would fulfill her wandering feet's desire. Perhaps she would even get as far as Imladris, or Rivendale, as her mother had told her from her travels. Perhaps she would venture farther than even her mother has gone, just to say that she did.

But, for now, this was enough.

She had secured Bag End and a small fortune to keep her and Frodo secure. She protected her home. She gained custody of her nephew. She beat off Lobelia's attempts at stealing her mother's silver more times than she cared to count. She and Frodo were finally able to create a sense of contentment within their routine in the Shire.

What else could she possibly ask for?

And, with that final thought in place, Bilbo turned on her heels to stroll through the back door once more, "Now, what to make for supper? Perhaps I'll have a glass of wine, while I have a look in the pantry."

Little did she know that her nephew's own wandering feet would wind him up in trouble and bring her a few unexpected guests very soon.

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Frodo's tiny hairy feet took him beyond the edge of the forest trees outlining the Bag End estate, over two small creeks, and through a small glen just outside of his best friend's, Samwise Gamgee, family smial. Along his make-shift path, Frodo found a multitude of interesting things. Brass buttons, small skipping stones, leaves that took the shape of a dragon (at least to his imaginings), and five well-shaped, pre-pealed conkers.

It was at this last find that Frodo was about to head back when, suddenly, his pointed ears picked up a peculiar sound.

"Huh?", Frodo puzzled over the sound and where it was coming from, twisting this way and that in order to find out where it was coming from.

Once he finally knew which direction the sound was coming from, he began to walk towards it. As he ventured closer, Frodo could finally make out the sounds being made.

 _It- it sounds like someone's crying..._

Frodo came to an abrupt stop when another sound was heard. This time, it was a gruff, harsh voice. It was one that belonged to the race of Man, if he remembered correctly from his few trips to Bree with Bilba. It was enough of an experience to teach him to always be careful around the Big Folk. They were unpredictable and while some were nice and almost hobbit-like, others would soon see a hobbit beaten down and taken for all their worth.

It was during such a trip where the violence of Men was on display that he saw Bilba ready to pull out a knife from her clothes, ready to defend herself and him from a drunken man. Thankfully, Bilba didn't have to use her knife, but the experience did teach them to always be on guard when outside the Shire.

Thus, Frodo listened to the little voice of reason, that was strangely sounding like Bilbo, telling him to climb a tree and get a look that way. So, once he was as close as he dared, Frodo climbed a sturdy tree as quietly as he could. Coming to a stop in one of its more foliage-filled branches, he pushed apart the leaves to look into a small clearing.

What he saw horrified him to his core.

"Oh, dear Yavanna...", Frodo's eyes bulged out of his head at the sight before him. In a small clearing, there sat a group of four Big People in a circle. In the middle of the circle, there were at least four children wearing chains around their wrists. Their faces were smudged with dirt and grim, but tear paths were visible to him from his perch. Looking closer, he could tell that the kids were all around his age, and one of them, a smaller child with red hair, was chocking on his hiccuped cries.

This, however, didn't appeal to one of the Big Folk, as he took the thick stick he had in hand and slammed it on the ground next to the child, "Oie! Shut up, ya little shit stain or I'll beat ya' black and blue!"

This made the child curl up into the group of kids farther, as a child with blonde hair made to shield him with their body.

"Don't get so rilled tha' ya' mess them up too bad, Garffer. They's need to look able to work if they's going to sell for anything.", Slurred another man, who was half-way into a bottle of liquor.

At that, Frodo snapped out of his horrified trance and slowly shifted backwards along the branch. These men that were trespassing into the Shire...they were slave-traders! With his entire body shaking, Frodo slowly inched his way to the trunk of the tree to get down.

 _I-I have to get help! I have to get Bilba!_

A man-sized grip on his ankle froze his brain, unable to cry out as he was tugged sharply out of the tree.

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 **And, with the first chapter is done! I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Thank you to all my readers!**

 **I hope you all are having a great start to the New Year!**

 **Happy Readings!**


	2. Enter These Woods, If You Dare

**DISCLAIMER: I** **WISH** **THAT I WAS THE CREATOR OF THIS WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL, INSPIRATIONAL MASTERPIECE! ... BUT I AM NOT.**

 **I own nothing from The Hobbit books or its characters or any other type of reference that I may or may not put into my writing in the future...and that is sad for me** **.**

 **BUT, AT LEAST I CAN SATISFY MY NEED TO SHIP IT'S CHARACTERS AND PLACE THEM IN SITUATIONS NOT ORIGINALLY IN THE BOOK/MOVIE SERIES.**

 **HERE'S TO SEMI-FULFILLED DREAMS!**

 **Also, I wanted to say thank you to all of my supporters/reviewers/followers for this story. You all had such nice things to say about it and I was so happy to read the feedback. I hope you and many others will enjoy it more as the story progresses.**

 **Well, I think I've kept you guys long enough. On with the story!**

 **HOPE YOU ENJOY!**

 _[Postscript: I apologize if there are any confusions with the transitions between Real Time and Flashbacks. I try and make them as clean-cut as I can, but if for some reason people get confused, I'll give you a heads-up here. There is one true Flashback with Fili's POV about something he overhears in his home at the Blue Mountains. All other mentions of the past are Fili's thoughts at that moment. Anyway, thank you for your time. Sorry to hold you up. On with the show!]_

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Chapter 2: Enter These Woods, If You Dare...

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Fear was not something Fili let affect him if he could help it. In fact, ever since his brother's first Life-day, he'd made a vow to himself to show the world that it didn't scare him. And, to be honest, Fili normally didn't have many things to be scared of inside the caverns of the Blue Mountains. He and his brother would spend their days as carefree as they pleased, confident in the fact that their was no safer place to live than a mountain filled to the brim with fierce, honorable dwarven warriors.

However, since he and his brother were kidnapped, Fili's sense of security has been dealt a earth-crushing blow. Taken from the Mountain fortress that they've been raised in by the dwarves meant to protect them, it had been so hard for Fili to keep himself from crying in fear along with his brother and two other dwarflings. But, he had held on strong to his vow and persevered.

Even as he was sitting in the dirt of an unfamiliar clearing, trapped and surrounded by disgusting human slave-traders, he tried his best to be brave for Kili and the others.

 _'Uncle Thorin and Mister Dwalin always told me to never show fear when faced with the enemy. I have to keep it together - at least until they come rescue us.'_

His brother crawled into his lap, leaning against him for comfort, and he could feel the other young dwarfling tremble as she clutched at his shirt sleeve. And, boy, was this young lass uncharacteristically strong. Looking down, Fili could see the fabric stretched and almost to the point of tearing even though the young dwarrowdam only had her pointer finger and thumb pinching it towards her.

Thankfully she didn't pull it so hard that his little cousin Gimli, who was fast asleep in the crook of his arm, was disturbed from slumber. Speaking of which, Fili couldn't help but worry for their youngest. Although already weened from his mother, he was still a babe and needed constant attention and care. The milk that Fili had been allowed to bring for him was running low, probably only going to last him until tomorrow, and he knew better than to bring this to the slaver's attention. It was something their new capturers were not interested in supplying for the young one, which made Fili hate them all the more.

 _'He's been shivering for a while now_ _. Being out in this cold air can't be good for him. Being only a babe, he's even more vulnerable to the elements than us. Please Mahal, let Uncle find us soon before he gets worse...'_

Next to him, Kili stirred at his side, "Nadad, you're worrying again...I can tell."

"What are you talking about? I am not."

"Yes, you are." Kili smirked victoriously, his eyes taking on an almost mischievous glint, "Whenever you're worried, your face scrunches up here," he pointed to a spot just between his golden-colored eyebrows, grinning playfully as he slowly tapped the gap. "It's just like Uncle Th-"

"Kili!", Fili quickly shushed his brother, stealing a glance at the humans that surrounded them and was relieved that they hadn't heard them.

There were four in total. Two of the men were asleep around the small fire, while the leader of the slavers was leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. Around that tree were three tied-off ropes that attached to each of the dwarflings, except for little Gimli who was swaddled in a small, but warm blanket. It was the only thing that he had been able to grab and bring with him before they were filched out of the mountain.

 _'The ropes aren't really a problem. The man who tied them is so empty-headed that he didn't even tie the knot properly. Getting out of these would be easy, but those bells -'_ Fili glared at the silver chimes that dangled from his rope line. _'It's because of those things that we can't even think about escaping. We'd be found out the moment our restraints go slack.'_

Turning his gaze back to Kili, he gave his brother a reassuring smile, "Don't worry about it, nadad. I'm sure our kin are on their way and will rescue us soon. So just try to get some sleep, while we have the time."

Kili snuggled into his shoulder. "I know, Fee. But...do you think - um - well... they're not going to get hurt, are they?"

"They'll be fine." Fili whispered softly, yet full of confidence. "You remember all the times we watched Uncle and Mister Dwalin spar in the training halls. There's no way that they would lose to these men. Trust me, they don't stand a chance against _real_ dwarf warriors."

Kili was silent for a moment, before shifting closer, seeking comfort. "I know, but...I'm just worried... those bad dwarves were -"

He could read his brother's thoughts as if they were his own. A lot has happened these past few weeks of traveling, but nothing had prepared any of them to witness what they had two days ago. No, nothing will ever allow him to forget. That night, when the grass was stained an unnatural color and the moon shone down like a lonely crystal in an abandoned cavern.

 _'Kili and...what was her name - Tori...Bori...no, what was it? Well, I can just ask her later. What's important is that both of the younger ones were asleep when that happened. Not like me..., but that's a good thing, right? They won't be burdened with having seen that. And, besides, I'm the oldest. I can deal with it better. Kili though...'_

"Don't worry about that now, Kili. What's done is done, there was nothing we could have done for them. And don't think uncle will fall for the same tricks as they did. He's a better warrior than those honorless dwarves could ever hope to be." Fili was filled with relief when he saw his brother nod, taking his words as truth. "Just be patient, Kili."

"Okay. I'll try, Fee." muttered Kili, his doubt evident even as he tried to sound otherwise confident in his family's abilities. Fili knew that it wasn't because his brother didn't believe in their family's ability to completely destroy these slavers.

Far from it!

Kili knew their strength and got to see it firsthand at the Blue Mountain's annual weapon's tournament on Durin's Day.

He ran up and down the festival stands proudly announcing how their Amad felled a dwarf twice her size during one of Durin's Day's wrestling matches. The story was told in a vivid way that only his brother could tell. With his uncle and Mister Dwalin were cheering from the sidelines, Kili had been trying to get Adad to place him on his shoulders. The only answer the young dwarfling got was his Adad's knowing smirk as he was hoisted up onto his shoulders to watch the fight. That poor dwarf was sent to the Healing Halls with broken bones, while he and Kili went home with a new-found fear of their beautiful Amad.

Fili grinned down at his little nadad, "We can't be tired when he comes to free us. We might need to run and hide during the fight. That's why you have to try and get some sleep. I'll take first watch." The last words were spoken mainly due to him remembering Mister Dwalin's training lectures.

While boring at times, they at least they made Fili feel a bit less vulnerable in their current situation.

Kili smiled before yawning quite loudly, his eyes beginning to get droopy with fatigue, "Alright...but, wa-wake me when its...my sh-shift."

Fili snorted softly as he watched a day of trudging through a dark forest finally weigh down on his brother.

He was now thoroughly convinced that his brother would be able to fall asleep anywhere, even if he were trapped in a Erebor with the dragon Smaug raging through its halls. Seeing him sleep now, it reminded Fili about all the times he would fall asleep on one of their make-believe quests back home; Well, not Erebor, but their home away from home.

In the caverns of the Blue Mountains, they would often escape the not-so-watchful eyes of their nursemaid to trapeze the halls in search of adventure. Although they never got close to reaching the outside world before being discovered, Fili had led excursions through its winding tunnels and caverns more times than he could count.

Food and desert raids on the kitchen halls became heroic quests to retake stolen dwarrow-crafted jewels from hoards of goblins. Hiding from guards and their nursemaids would transform the brothers into thieves avoiding detection from orcs and wargs. One time they got as far as the armory where he and Kili tressed themselves with armor and the finest swords they could lift off their resting-hooks on the walls.

Needless to say, they got in a lot of trouble every time they were caught. The lectures that followed, which were mostly directed at him, made him feel rather guilty too.

The first time they were hauled back home after an adventure, both Amad and Adad were standing at the front door. He could still remember how their parents looked that day. Their frightened, worried expressions had become imbedded in his mind.

His Adad, golden hair frizzed from running through the blacksmith forges and sporting a layer of coal-dust from the mines, held close their teary-eyed Amad who looked ready to use her special version of parental discipline on her wayward sons. Both brothers' backsides were tanned that day.

He never meant to hurt his parents or make them worry, though. After the high of adventure left him each time, Fili would take one look at his mother's worried face and his father shaking his head in disappointment and be reminded of how tired they looked. The last thing that he wanted was to be another weight for them to carry. They had enough on their minds dealing with all the daily problems and issues that came with handling their mining sections in the mountain.

If that wasn't enough, Uncle Thorin and his Amad were at constant odds with the nobles about something or other. And almost always, it was the noble faction in charge of the Ore Mining guild.

What was most annoying were the late night meetings they would insist upon, which ended up being held in their home.

At these meetings, nobles and their guild leaders would file into their receiving room to await the return of his uncle from the forges. He and Kili would rarely see their uncle arrive home, since he worked in the forges most of the time he was in the mountain.

However, he could recall one night when a particularly loud argument between the nobles and uncle broke out. With nothing but the sound of snoring slavers and the wind whistling through the tree leaves, Fili allowed his mind a moment to wander back to that time.

 _Flashback_

It was during the late hours when he was roused from his sleep while his brother who slept next to him was making long, open-mouthed snores. Unable to get back to sleep and more than a little bit curious, Fili decided to see what was going on.

He remembered slowly slipping out of their make-shift bed, which consisted of a stack of course-haired blankets laid out on the floor with one long pillow just enough for him and his brother to share. He made sure he was quiet opening and closing the door to his bedroom, before moving forward down the hall.

" - don't understand, Thorin! We were all in agreement not two months ago, and just when we find a lucrative prospect you want to let it go to waste?"

Amad's voice broke through into the air, "You have no one to blame, but yourselves for this. Clearly, you either were not made aware or cared little of the many structural instabilities and other dangers that came with those mines. If it weren't that you had already paid for them in full and had signed those damn 'Permanent Holdings' documents - "

"In any case," His uncles voice raced on the heels of his Amad's rant, "Since we will be unable to reclaim the payment amount for the mine, we must tread These restrictions will be put into place by the next work rotation. Those mining belts will be halted until more experienced miners can begin an inspection of its stability."

"You doubt our own miners knowledge on this? You dare -"

"We are not contesting the knowledge or abilities of your guilds members, Guild Master Surtir; they have proven their skills time and time again over the years. It is simply our opinion that a neutral party would provide the best insight of the mine's current condition."

"But...to bring in one not of Durin's Folk...to trust in a dwarf not of Erebor is..."

At this, Thorin's voice changed to one filled with kingly authority, "We will not have that discussion again, Surtir. The dwarf is respectable and has been picked out of a selection of most capable miners. He has received praise for his exceptional work ethic from his fellow miners and the Guild's leaders have assured me that he is a trustworthy sort. On top of all this, the dwarrow in question has already sworn to express his evaluation of the mines conditions as a neutral party. You have nothing to say against him other than that he is of the Broadbeams, and I will not indulge such an absurd reason to reject him for the job your own miners refused."

Stopping at the edge of the hallway, Fili crouched down to the floor and peaked into the receiving room.

There weren't that many guests that night. Uncle was sitting in his usual chair near the fire pit, a background of soft, orange flames illuminating the left side of his face. He was leaning in, elbow on the armrest, as he spoke to the three dwarrow in front of him.

The voice of another drew Fili's eye away.

"Thorin, you must reconsider this. The orders from the towns of men have already arrived and we are expecting estimation letters from the Iron Mountains any day now. If they are anything like the previous year, then there is no way we will be able to fulfill them with half of our available mines closed off."

The first dwarrow had his arms folded over his rather large stomach that was threatening to burst open his belt buckle. The obviously well-fed dwarrow wore well-tailored clothes, expensive gold and silver rings, and bejeweled braid clasps in his long hair and beard that spoke of wealth. This was definitely one of the nobles of the mountain.

Fili then directed his attention to the other two dwarrow. They were dressed a little more like servants to the noble, wearing similar colors and ornaments as the plump fellow.

One such dwarrow, with a somewhat curly beard, shared a look with the other.

"It is as my Lord Surtir says, Master Thorin; regardless of what the Broadbeam might find, those mines need to stay open. They would yield a larger turnout of ore than all the other mines put together. If you stop the miners now, how do you think that will effect our trade negotiations?"

Uncle Thorin didn't show any sign that the dwarrow's statement affected him, which prompted the other servant to speak up, "Neither the men nor our kin in the west will be understanding of our situation. If we are unable to fulfill their orders, then our credibility will fall. Besides, the conditions of the mines were guaranteed by the auctioneer to be stable enough for routine mining. We should be more concerned with -"

"Stable, you say?", The deep, commanding tone of a true King vibrated through the air, causing Fili to lean forward and the nobles' attendants to lean back.

Even without raising his voice, Thorin's words had the effect of silencing a room. At that moment, Fili could only remember a feeling of pride and awe as he listened to his uncle's words.

"After reading this," Thorin indicated a small stack of papers on the side table next to him, "I am surprised that you even made the push to purchase the mining rights to those death chambers, much less allowed those miners anywhere near them."

Lord Surtir placed his hands up, "Now, Thorin -"

Apparently Thorin's expression was one of nightmares, because the noble's voice hitched a bit, fear clogging up anything he was about to say.

Thorin's voice was now edged as sharp and hot as a newly forged dwarven axe, "Have you even bothered to read this report from the scribes, Mr. Trelan? No? Well then, allow me to enlighten you on our situation." Thorin clutched the papers in his hand, bringing them to eye-level, " - _During the second bell-toll shift, miners in the eastern-most Long Beard owned mines experienced three cave-ins._ _Of the fifty miners in the section, thirty were found to have minor injuries. A total of fourteen dwarrows were later excavated from the collapsed sections and were determined by on-site healers to have sustained major injuries ranging from head trauma to crushed limbs."_

Thorin paused a moment before turing the page, "The _remaining six dwarrow miners were pronounced dead on-site. Their bodies or body parts that could be excavated safely were wrapped and returned to their documented next of kin. The body of Surtil, son of Durtil, one of the miners caught in the cave-in, could not be extracted safely in one piece. The family of this brave dwarf was therefore unable to receive the deceased's body in its entirety. All fallen dwarves were given death announcements the following day at the morning bell, and are scheduled to be sent to the Cleansing Halls to be cleaned and purified by their kin for burial in the Blue Mountain's Stone Halls.-_ Now," Thorin said in a deceptively calm, yet angered tone, "Please explain to me, how this qualifies or even comes close to being the 'more-than-safe working conditions' you described to me before I gave you the funds to purchase these Mahal-forsaken mines!"

Both the noble and attendants were silent, offering no excuses or justifications.

Thorin, eyes still burning hot with this betrayal of his trust, straightens his back to look down on the dwarf noble, "My decision stands. The mines shall remain closed during its' inspection. Now, it is late. If there isn't anything else that needs to be discussed then I must bid you a good evening."

Lord Surtir stood up, "Well, I suppose we can only hope that the inspector will bring back something positive. If not... well, let us hope that your decision will leave the citizens with at least the ability to buy food as well as fulfill their rent requirements. If we are to turn down both the men and the Iron Mountain's ore orders, some of your people may be left to the mercy of winter this year."

Fili frowned at how Surtir excluded himself from what could possibly be their people's fate, as if he were above the dwarves he was appointed to serve. It made Fili sick to his stomach.

"I have always, to the best of my abilities, strived to better the lives of every exiled Erebor dwarf here in the Blue Mountains. I would give much to see that all are fed, clothed, and able to live dignified lives here. To that end, I will not knowingly send any dwarrow into those death-tunnels until I have a full report determining its safety and stability. If the worst scenario is unavoidable, I plan to petition the Blue Mountain Council for aide. That is my final word on the matter." Thorin answered curtly, not getting up to see them to the door, thus prompting Amad to lead them out.

It was only after they had gone that Fili saw his uncle physically slump into himself. The weight of a hundred problems seemed to rest on his shoulders, as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. Fili stayed in his corner staring at his uncle's worn-out form until his Amad came back to stand at his side, taking a small comb out from her pocket. Carefully, she began to card it through his dark, tangled locks. The gesture was intimate in a familial way and was just the thing Uncle needed, for his body relaxed under her attention.

It was...serene.

His uncle's stress wrinkles smoothed out as Amad tilted his head closer to her, cradling it in her palm as she combed through his soot-stained locks. The world seemed to slow down at that moment for Fili as he watched the scene play out. He watched as the two of the most important dwarves in his life found comfort in each other, forgetting their troubles and their heavy responsibilities.

In that moment, Fili had felt humbled. With no real responsibilities of his own to speak of yet, Fili couldn't truly imagine how hard his parents and uncle tried to make things work here in the Blue Mountains. In his chest Fili could feel an overwhelming surge of love and pride.

Fili's father, who had been standing just to the side of Amad, caught sight of Fili, but didn't draw it to the other's attentions. Instead, Adad gave him a small, sad smile and subtly waved him off to bed. It was one of the first orders from his parents that he followed immediately.

 _Flashback End_

Fili vowed to help lift his family's spirits in any way he could after that night. He did chores, looked after Kili to make sure he was happy, and tried his best to make things a little easier at home. But, Kili was counting on him to take him on adventures; ones that would make them forget about their own troubles. Adults were not the only ones who got stressed, after all.

And really, their adventures were only short trips contained within the mountain, their home. It should have been safe for them anywhere within its caverns.

At least, that was what Fili had thought before they were taken from their home.

It had happened soon after Fili had gathered Kili to sneak out of the house. Their nursemaid for the day, a middle-aged, yet still beautiful by dwarrow standards, dwarrowdam named Nargi was tending to his infant cousin Gimli who had recently been weened a few days prior. Another dwarfling had come along said nursemaid; her child seeing as they both sported unique flaming red locks.

Fili took charge of their escape and waited for Nargi to turn her back, so that he could unlock the front door. It would have been a simple matter of slinking through, quietly closing the door, and off they were to freedom.

Instead, Fili was confronted with a group of four rough-looking dwarrows...all of them brandishing weapons. He was just about to say something when the nearest dwarrow - one with a criss-cross scar over his left eye and a long braided brown beard - shoved his way through and knocking him to the side. Thrown onto the floor, Fili had been too dazed to understand what was happening until it was too late to call for help.

It all happened so fast. In less than a minute, the four dwarrows forced themselves inside his home. At their entry, the little lass let out a cry that alerted Nargi and sent her running to see what had upset her.

Strong though she was, Nargi wasn't prepared for the presence of four full-grown dwarrows. Nargi had put up a good fight, going for a loose piece of firewood left by the wall, she only got three good strikes at the leader and another dwarrow before being knocked unconscious by a dwarrow who knocked his sword handle hard against her head.

Fili remembered seeing Nargi fall to the ground, wincing when he realized there was a bit of blood staining her hair from where she was struck. It trickled out in droplets onto the floor, staining it and causing fear to settle in his bones for the nursemaid who tried to protect them. While Kili screamed for Adad, the little lass was crying against her Amad while trying to shake her awake. Fili could remember trying to get to Nargi's side, but was pushed back against the wall by one of the dwarrow.

The deep commanding voice of the dwarf made Fili freeze to the wall, "Don't run or we'll cut you down right here."

Fili, for as brave as he thought he was, couldn't move his body. His eyes met his enemy's, and there was nothing that showed the dwarrow wouldn't make good on this threat.

It was only when a different dwarrow, one that had swept through the house, came in with little Gimli dangling dangerously from the crook of his arm that Fili was prompted into action. Darting forward, Fili kicked the dwarrow's knee in the same way he saw Dwalin spare with his uncle, causing the cur to fall forward enough to snatch Gimli away.

The dwarrow had wanted to hit him for that, but was stopped by his leader, "We don't have time for that. The evening bell is only a few hours away and we need to be out of the mountain and miles away before 'his highness' gets wind of this. Raid the pantry and get them out - quietly."

That was the start of their nightmare.

Taken from the safety of the mountain that same day, they were forced to follow the dwarrows into the wilds. At the beginning, Fili had hope that his Adad would be coming for them within the hour. His strong, formidable form would appear in his fantasies alongside his Amad and Uncle Thorin as they slew the dwarrows who kidnapped them from their home.

It was after a lot of traveling that Fili's hopes of escaping by themselves were starting to become harder to believe in. Try as he might, he could not think of a way for all four of them to slip away safely. And, although he was irritated to admit it, these dwarrow didn't really harm them in any way. In fact, they took care to make sure they came to no harm.

This confused him for a while until he overheard the leader talking about 'waiting for a message'. Fili could only guess at what that cryptic bit of information meant for him and his charges. But, there was nothing to do, but continue on and hope an opportunity would present itself so they could escape.

They moved down the side of a river and only stopped when they were on the edge of a town inhabited by Men. This was obviously a check-point of some kind, because they spent a total of two days there. It wasn't so bad, until they were discovered by an even worse group of beings - the human slavers. Sneaky and silent, they caught their dwarf capturers off guard in the dead of night.

Fili shook himself clear of those memories, not wanting to relive what he saw as the most honorless and gruesome fight he has ever witnessed.

All he would focus on now was his responsibilities to his brother and cousins. He would do whatever it would take to get them to safety - even if it meant that he would have to stay behind.

Currently, the slavers had moved them a little bit each day deeper into the forest and always stopped when the sun was going down. According to the main leader, from what Fili had been able to overhear, they were headed for the mountain range at the end of the Shire's boarders. That meant only one thing to Fili: that they were getting farther away from the Blue Mountain and their family's reach.

 _'Probably going to sell us to buyers in the human villages around the Iron Hills - and there's no telling if Uncle can track us for such a distance. If I can't get us out of here before we get to the mountains... we will all be sold and separated!'_

Fili's arms tightened their grip around his charges, a sliver of raw panic flickering through his eyes at the thought - at the possible, horrid fate.

"Oi! Stop biting me hand, ya' damn giant-footed beast! Let go!"

"Put me down! Get your dirty hands off me!"

"Shut up you little - OW, DAMN IT! YA LITTLE BUGGER, I'LL SKIN YA!"

"I want to see you try! Just you wait, my aunt is going to put a quiver o' arrows through your butt!"

Out of the thicket that surrounded the camp, one of the more burly slavers came tumbling through clutching the shirt collar of a peculiar-looking creature. Its small body seemed out of proportion with its over-grown feet and its head was filled with the tightest nest of curls Fili had ever seen. If it had the chance to grow out, he had no doubt that the curls would stay compact as possible.

Small as it was, the tiny being was putting up a decent enough fight. Arms flailing and teeth bared, the slaver came into the campfire light with deep scratches over his forearms and a deep, slightly bleeding bite mark on the bridge of his nose.

"Oi, Snider! What d' ya' find?"

The slaver now known as Snider lifted the creature up higher, letting his companions see his catch, "I have no idea what it is, but seemed to be napping in the trees. Luck break for us tho, another spritely body to sell."

Anther slaver, one with a lanky frame with only a small amount of muscle definition on his arms, made his way closer to inspect whatever his friend caught. He sneered as he put his face close to their new captive. That turned out to be a mistake, since not a second later the slaver was on the ground, screaming in pain. His hands covering his eyes.

"Little beastie poked me' eye out!"

"That's it!", A second later, the small body was thrown across the grass to land on the ground not even a foot from where the dwarflings were huddled together. At this distance, Fili could clearly see that the creature was a hobbit. A tiny, child-hobbit, to be precise. It's button nose was caked with dirt from his landing and he was spitting out some grass stems as he lifted himself up.

Snider then drove his foot into its gut, causing it to lift it slightly into the air before rolling to a stop next to a now awake red-haired dwarrowdam, with her looking like she wanted to bring him into their pile for protection from the slavers. Instead, after a moment of wheezing, the little hobbit turned to sit on his bottom. His eyes were alit with an inner fire directed at the one who abused him. His defiance won him a bit of respect from the eldest dwarfling.

Snarling, Snider stomped heavily forward, rolling up his dirty sleeves, ready to exact some more torture on the tyke when the leader called for him to stop.

"Alright, Snider that's enough, no damaging potential merchandise. John, get your ass off the floor already."

The lead slaver grunted as he got up from his place by the fire. "I thought we rounded up all the mountain-dwellers in the area already, but one musta' got left behind. Ah well, little guy has some fire in em'. Could probably sell em' to one of the towns beyond The Pass if he's healthy."

Kili growled low at the threat, clutching his arms around his brother fiercely. His glare was matched with Fili's own, as the slavers chortle. The commotion had been loud, which meant that little Gimli was now softly sobbing.

"Ehhh, shut that little one up quick, blondie. Else I'll have to silence it for good in the river."

At the threat, Fili saw that flicker of fire in the hobbit's eyes turn ablaze. Their newcomer's features were cold and unforgiving, judging the slaver who spoke to what would have been an execution sentence, if he had the ability.

The leader had a nasty grin as he now had a long piece of rope in his hands, "Now, let us see what I have to work with. Gotta check teeth, hair, and muscles. I'll let you have first crack at em', Snider. If he's not strong enough to take a beating, we'll have t' sell em' when we pass by Bree. I know a guy that - !"

A shrill noise pierced the air around them. Birds and bats alike that had settled in for the night in the trees were sent scattering, letting out panicked chirps and feathers through the air. Soon the clearing was filled with an assortment of flying animals, all of them attacking the men. The slavers, startled by the sudden assault, began dancing around trying to avoid getting bit or pecked.

"AAHH! WHAT THE HELL!"

"WHERE DID THESE COME FROM?! AHH!"

"THEY'RE DIVING FROM THE TREES! OW! THEIR BITTING!"

"GET EM' OFF, GET EM' OFF ME!"

Fili ducked his head. With his arms, he tried to shield the others from the assortment of animals attacking them from above.

A tug on one of his arms made him reopen his eyes to see the little boy-child with a blade of grass in his mouth, blowing through it every now and then to send another shrill sound through the air.

"Come on!", the boy whispered quickly to them, taking hold of the ropes tying the little dwarrowdam to the tree and easily unraveling them.

Kili was the first to react, pulling up his leg to push against his own bound hands and managed to get them off quickly.

"Hurry, Fili!" The panicked tone of his brother got him moving. Taking his teeth to his own restraints, Fili bit and tugged until they loosened enough for Kili to help pry them off.

Standing up, he took little Gimli to hold him more securely, before looking at the boy-child that had almost shared their fate and was now possibly saving them from it.

Looking at the strange child, Fili could see raw determination in his eyes. But, it wasn't some drive to get himself to safety; no, this was an expression that Fili had only ever seen on two individuals in his life. One was with his Uncle Thorin during their sparing training, and the other was Adad when he rushed Kili to the Healing Halls after a terrible fall down a level of stairs that left the dark-haired dwarfling unconscious.

It was a look that told all of Middle Earth that it didn't matter what stood in their way: be it a hoard of orcs, a fire-breathing dragon, or the armies of Mordor. What they were set out to do, it was going to succeed. With his Uncle, it had been to protect. With Adad, it was to heal his brother.

In this instance, this little creature had set it upon himself to get them somewhere safe and away from these horrible men.

With no time to think if this was a good idea or not, Fili tightened his hold on little Gimli, told everyone to stay close, and followed their unexpected savior into the darkness of the forest.

Now, he could only pray to Mahal that this little creature would lead them to their salvation, and maybe back home to the Blue Mountains.

Behind him, he could hear the angry voices of the men shouting at each other.

"They're getting away!"

"After them, then! Get em' back!"

"AHHH! BAT! BAT!"

The threats from the men only spurred the dwarflings on more, making them run faster alongside the little creature that made their escape possible. They had to escape from them, from this place. If not, Fili could only imagine what those men would do to them if they were recaptured.

So, they ran farther into the darkness, their eyes trained on the small being that they were counting on to lead them somewhere safe.

As they ran, none of the young dwarflings seemed to notice their guide chanting a strange language under his breath. It was wheezy and short-breathed due to him running, but it had all the softness of a lullaby being whispered to a babe. It was a plea from a hobbit to the earth for protection, guidance, and assistance.

And, as always with hobbits and earth-grown things, it rang true and clear.

If the low tree branches and odd bushes seemed to lean out of their way, it went unnoticed. If they passed a tree with large roots, they didn't see how they raised higher off the ground after they were gone. If a wind-less shudder reverberated through the tree leaves, passing through the forest towards Bag End with an urgent haste, it wasn't registered by the young dwarf escapees.

But, within moments, every Bounder within a few miles past Bag End felt the Forest's call that signaled a hobbit was in trouble. All of these Bounders, whether they were asleep at home or out in the forest, had immediately readied themselves and checked their quivers for arrows and the elasticity of their bowstrings. And, within the timespan of a minute, every last one was out their doors, silently running towards the one who called for help, guided by the Old Forest.

* * *

 **[A bit earlier]**

In a rather grand, comfortable smial situated on top of The Hill, a young hobbit lass was bustling about her kitchen preparing for the evening meal-times.

In her finely built kitchen, every counter there were wooden and silver utensils laying about being used for whipping, stirring, or chopping an assortment of food for both the dinner and supper-time meals. Slices of juicy red meat, marinated all day in spices and sauces, were set out on the counter to be cooked on the fire stove. Small bowls decorated with flower engravings, which held the ever-so-important spices used for several dishes, including Bilba's famous cinnamon spice cakes, were carefully secured in racks that rested against the back-wall of the counters.

The sink was half-full with soapy water that splashed upwards whenever Bilba threw a pan or pot inside. The side-dishes were finished already, with a bowl of steamed vegetables, one with cold fruits, and a small plate of ginger cookies for Frodo's after-supper treat. All of which were sitting in front of the window that overlooked Bag End's garden.

 _'Glad I had the foresight to store these cookies away from the sill this afternoon. No doubt one of Hamfast's six little faunts would've tried their luck in getting their sticky-fingers on them while I was out.'_

Any hobbit worth their daily tea and butter scones knew that a smial's kitchen, and thus any adjacent food storage area, was sacred. In a non-formal sort of way, of course. No guest was ever swatted with an umbrella for entering another's bread pantry uninvited, after all. Now _that_ would definitely be un-hobbitish behavior.

But, there was always room for every hobbit to educate faunts to be mindful of other hobbit's kitchens, especially since more than a few young ones would be inclined to pitch their tent underneath tablecloths waiting for the perfect moment to snag a treat off any unattended baking tray.

Bilba shook her head in amusement as she soaked in the ambiance of her kitchen. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear her mother's soft footfalls as she used to use this very kitchen to prepare all their meals. She could still hear her mother calling to her father, who would be sitting out on the porch bench having a smoke, that he was allowed back inside for whatever meal the day called for.

Bilba chuckled at the memory. Her mother, bless her soul, had always said that her husband was a master of all crafts, except cooking.

 _'Give him but a moment in our kitchen, and he would have set the whole smial ablaze!',_ Mother used to say, and Bungo would brush it off with a meek smile and a chaste kiss brushed against her mother's cheek.

Dear Yavanna, did she miss them both. Nevertheless, what she had right now, Bilba wouldn't exchange for anything.

"Now," Bilba said as she clapped her hands together, "Enough of that. These meals aren't going to make themselves."

With that, Bilba made her way to her kitchen's first pantry.

According to all hobbits, there were few things that compared to the hypnotic sensation that came with preparing meals. This was especially true when said meals were secret recipes to their families that were coveted and were, figuratively speaking, protected like a dragon over a nest of precious gems and gold.

For Bilbo, this treasure held the form of a sizable, slightly color-faded and worn-out book. Two leather straps helped secure the mass of papers, some of which were left to loosely drift between the books' bound pages.

Lengthier than her chest and almost too thick to fit her arms around, the red-stained leather book was carefully taken out of its secret hiding spot in the Baggins' first pantry. Bilbo smiled as she remembered the first time her father told her about his self-constructed hidden trick-lever and pop-out section of wood that, when closed, would completely camouflage with the pantry's wood walls. It was a secret that he and mother passed down to her the day she was ready to make her first signature creation.

A 'rite of passage', of sorts, for hobbits that was taken as seriously as anything else in the Shire. Casually, and with a just the right amount of fussing over by older hobbits.

In a family, when a fauntling was considered old enough to not harm themselves in the kitchen, the parents would provide them with a small notebook to begin thinking up their own dishes. More often than not, a fauntling would be drawn to the signature cooking styles of their family, but at others they may seek out different forms, as well.

Of instance, while the Tooks were well-known for their splendid spice mixtures and stews, a fauntling may be more attracted to a Brandybuck's delicate pastry-making skills.

Hobbit families who were known for their tart and scone baking skills were usually the most avid contributors to parties, which gave younglings plenty of exposure to its process. The Sackvilles' - Bilbo was begrudgingly say - were amongst the few to show true skill in this, especially in their scones.

As luck would have it, Bilbo was not inclined to such a well-trodden, beaten path when it came to her own cooking skills. No, her specialty lays in something in-between those of the Baggins and the Tooks, something entailed more patience that any Took could muster and more experimentation with flavors than a Baggins would feel comfortable attempting: Roasts.

Of course, she also knew how the bake, simmer, and preserve jars of jam, but nothing she could make could compare to her roasts. Bilba excelled in creating roasts that tantalized the tastebuds of any hobbit and were so flavorful, juicy, and tender that they were renowned at parties and festivals.

It was a fact that left Lobelia with steam coming out of her ears when her scones were passed over for Bilba's newest herbed and spiced beef roasts. The woman's jealousy and thirst for competition had left her angrier than Old Farmer Maggot's one-eyed billy-goat. It was soon after that party that Bilba caught the woman searching through her cupboards one afternoon, intent on stealing her recipes.

 _'That horrid woman!"_ Bilba thought, then shrugged, _'But, one can only think it inevitable for Lobelia to end up as she did. What with a mother like Primrose.'_

According to what her mother shared with her, Lobelia learned all she knew about swiping family recipes from her mother, Primrose Boffin; a woman who had a terrible obsession with Bilba's father. The rivalry between Bilbo's mother and Primrose was something of legend to the good hobbits of Hobbiton, as Primrose had entered into a one-sided rivalry with Belladonna Took since they were fauntlings. Those bad feelings came to a peak after Bungo proposed to Belladonna, and Primrose instilled the same rival-tendencies into her daughter; only this time, it was over Bag End.

Pushing such thoughts from her mind, she began to scroll through the delicate writings of past family members. Recipes of all sorts were written here by hobbits who have long since rejoined the Earth: Cookies, scones, cinnamon wheels, stews, pot soups, home brewed ale and spirits, it was all there. Settled on the floor, Bilba busied herself with reading through the book, getting lost in it's pages.

However, the cozy atmosphere of the smial was shattered by the harsh banging of a full-grown hobbit's fist on her front door.

"What in the world- its nearly dinner-time. Who could be knocking on doors at this time?", Bilba said to herself, as she quickly stowed her family's treasure away into one of the cabinets below the sink. Wiping her hands of both flour and whatever wet substance she managed to dip them in against a small hand-towel, she made her way to the door.

The urgent knocking didn't cease during her travel forwards, prompting her to arm herself with her mother's dagger she had strapped underneath the hallway console table. Arrows wouldn't have aided her anyway, not in such a cramped space. A knife would give her the advantage of movement, even though she didn't have much training in close-courter combat.

Something to think about, she mused as she stopped in front of the front door, knife hidden behind her back.

"Who is it?", Bilbo asked through the door. Rude, to be sure, but anyone in Hobbiton who knew her would understand her apprehension. Thankfully, the hobbit on the opposite side was not only one who approved of her actions, but was also the one who instilled them in her.

The knocking stopped as an equally heavy voice came from beyond the door, "Good girl, Ba! I'm glad that you haven't been slacking on your stealth exercises."

Bilba chuckled softly and after carefully restoring the knife, she opened the door to greet her long-time friend.

"Togo Brandybuck!", hands planted on her hips, Bilba faked a slight scowl even though she was sure her eyes held enough humor to convey her happiness.

On the doormat stood a slightly-over-middle-aged hobbit that stood just a few inches taller than her. His dark hair, once to have surely caught the eye of many young lasses, had a thin stripe of grey running from the right side of his forehead. His features were not as soft as other hobbits, which was to be expected after years of service to the Bounders and, just five years prior, being appointed Head Bounder of the Shire.

Nevertheless, she tried to keep up her acting put-upon for a few seconds more, "Do you know how late it is, captain? Coming to the door of a lass, and so close to dinner - you might get the neighbors talking."

A chortle escaped his lips, as he waved away the warning, "You and I both know you don't care what those gossip-bodies say. By the Goddess' Garden, I don't think they even know half the things you get up to."

She had to laugh at that, "It's true. They don't even know about the incident on Ol' Maggot's farm yet, and that happened just last Sunday!"

Togo shook his head, grinning fully at the memory, "I was there, and I still can't believe what I saw. You and that little scamp of yours kicking up dust through Ol' Farmer Maggot's crops with arms full of vegetables and his best fox dog snapping at your heels!"

He laughed as he walked through the door, before turning to her, "Where is little Frodo? Usually he's ready to spring on my from some new hiding place by now."

"He wanted to wander the Old Forest before dinner. Should be back in a moment. Why don't you come in and we can have dinner together?"

Welcoming him inside, Bilba shut the door after him. She was ready to take his coat when he shook his head, "Oh, no my dear. I won't be intruding long enough to stay for dinner. Just a quick pop-in and update from the Bounders along the boarder."

Well, that caught her off guard. While not as sociable as many of the other Bounders, what with the added responsibilities of being Head Bounder, Togo had never come by her smial without having at least one plateful under his belt.

 _'Did something happen recently?'_

"Well, why don't we sit down and you can fill me in, then? I have some hot water on, so we can at least have a cup of tea together."

"Much appreciated, Bo.", Togo pulled a small blue pouch from his waistband and held it out to her, "If you don't mind, could you put some of this in with mine? It feels like my feet have tracked more than half the Shire these past few days."

Taking the pouch, she peaked inside and find a fine powder-like substance that smelled distinctly of chamomile and peppermint. The go-to prescription of the Shire Bounders for foot-aches and pains.

"Of course.", Bilba smiled as she led her friend down the hallway and into the dining area. Excusing herself for a moment to pop into the kitchen to pour their tea, adding Togo's special medicine to his cup, before returning.

Togo had since pulled up a chair and had his hands laying on the table, fingers laced. His expression was so serious that it caused her pull up short.

From the day she had known him, Bilba had never seen Togo with such a solemn expression. Working together as Bounders to keep the Shire safe and the Old Forest content, she had gotten to know how Togo ticked, at least as well as friends could, of course. He was methodical in his planning, decisive in a pinch, and was truly a leader-type hobbit.

He had gotten her out of more scrapes and close-calls than Bilba was comfortable admitting, even though she had returned the favor on a few accounts. The Old Forest was not a place to idly wander, after all.

But, seeing the usually smiling, confident older hobbit weighed down by something... it was cause enough to worry and more than enough for her to demand an explanation.

Striding over to him with purpose, she placed their cups on the tabletop before seating herself. Her eyes sought out his, conveying without words her stubbornness to get the truth from him.

He must have understood her silent demand, since he let out a slight chuckle. Placing his hands up in surrender, he relented, "Alright, alright Bilba. I was here to tell you about it anyway."

"I figured that as much. As far as I was aware, you were called to check up on the Shire boarders closest to the human town, Bree. That was a week ago, and I didn't think you would be back so soon."

"There were matters to be dealt with on that front. Still are being dealt with, if I am being honest."

Her eyes narrowed as she peered over the rim of her cup, "These 'matters' are ones pertaining to the security of the Old Forest, I assume?"

Togo's own turned into something more serious as he explained, "Yes, I am afraid we have been having trouble coming through those woods this past week. The Branch Scouts on the boarder have been informing me that they've found tracks belonging to the Big Folk and their carriages."

"That's not entirely out of the ordinary. Though they don't come around all that often, the Shire does attract at least a few Big Folk every now and then to ask permission to travel through to sell their wares. What makes these tracks so unusual?" Bilba asked, leading the way to the dining room, so they could sit at the table.

Togo pulled up a chair, sitting on its' edge as he spoke, "It would be fine if we found them on the common road leading into the Shire. But these tracks were found off the beaten path and are split in several directions."

"Not just humans from Bree then.", Bilba concluded, suddenly becoming more aware that something was off. The Bree-men that traveled through the Shire on occasion were all required to obtain the correct papers and licenses from the Mayor of Buckland. Only afterwards were these men allowed to travel through the Shire, and even then were restricted to the main roads and marketplaces.

Given that these new tracks were those of both men and their wagons, Bilba could only surmise that they were not only trespassing, but also smuggling something or other around.

"Do we know what it is they are transporting?"

"No, not yet. But, just yesterday a scout came to me with something interesting. Considering that you're the more learned on other cultures than anyone else I know, I thought I would see what you made of it."

From his cloak, Togo pulled a small silver ring. Holding it out to her, he dropped the trinket into her awaiting hand.

Picking it up, Bilba could tell that it was finely - no, it was expertly made. More so than any hobbit or man could possibly be able to dedicate their time to create. Its' size was too large for a hobbit's finger, but not by that much, and it had harsh angular inscriptions melded into it's surface. Delicate, yet bold and filled with obviously meaningful writing in a language Bilba was only privy to due to her father's extensive book collection.

"Well, I'm sure of one thing, at least. This ring is of dwarf-make, and one that is finely made at that."

"Dwarves?", Togo said, fingers coming up to scratch at his chin. "Now, that is peculiar. We haven't had any contact with the dwarves, much less dwarves traveling through the Shire, since they usually prefer to do business in the towns of men. Why would dwarves travel with the Big Folk through the Shire's borders?"

"I'm not sure they were. Or rather, the dwarfling who wore this ring wasn't planning on traveling with Big Folk.", Bilba stated in a tone that was cold as ice, her knowledge of Dwarf culture giving her a better understanding of what was going on than Togo, "According to my father's books on Dwarven culture, it is exceedingly difficult for dwarrowdams, their female dwarves, to conceive a child. Because of this, they are considered too precious to let outside their mountains until they are at least tweens. And, even if they are, dwarf parents are exceedingly protective of them and would only allow close friends and family to mind them."

Bilba held up the small ring for Togo to see, "Given the size of this ring, I wouldn't say that the wearer was any older than Frodo," Bilba leaned closer to her friend, her features turning inquisitive, "You say that there were only Big Folk tracks along with the dwarflings', correct?"

At Togo's nod, Bilba's eyebrows pulled together and her free hand rested on her chin. Her eyes sought out the ring as she pondered the situation, "There is no way in Middle-Earth a mother-dwarrow would allow her child to travel alone or in the company of men."

Togo stood then, his own features growing darker as his own speculations were forming, "You'd better call Frodo back from his wanderings. The group has been traveling in the direction of the South Downs. Unless they were making the long trip around to the Blue Mountains, I doubt they have any good intentions meant for those dwarf-children. I'll assemble the nearest Bounders to help track - !"

From the open kitchen window, a harsh gust of wind blew through Bag End. The wind carried with it no dust or leaves from the outside, but rather a sense of alarm and fear that resonated through the two hobbits currently within the grand smial. The air traveled about the kitchen, around Bilba and Togo, and through to the front door that was unnaturally forced open by a means of ancient magic.

There was only one reason the Old Forest would deliver them such a hysteric message; there was a hobbit in distress, and it was no full-grown hobbit Bounder.

"Frodo."

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Bilba stared at Togo for all but a second before bolting from her seat. The teacup left to shatter against the floorboards, the hobbit lass raced to gather her Bounder's bow and quiver, swinging them onto her shoulder, and ran like fire was nipping at her heels to the front door. Togo was already there, her knife in his hand to give her and already reequipped with his own bow and quiver that he must have left outside.

Together, they quickly sprinted side-by-side down the road, into the open fields, and into the Old Forest.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 End**

* * *

 **Well, that's it for now, my wonderful readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

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